


You Make Me Feel So Young

by coloursflyaway



Series: Hartwin Week [6]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Aging, Bittersweet, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is sixty-three and Eggsy still loves him as much as he did when he kissed him the very first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me Feel So Young

“Darling, do you know where I put my glasses?”, Harry asks, looks up at Eggsy. His hair is still hanging into his forehead in curls, still a mess, there are hints of pillow imprints still on his cheeks, and Eggsy loves him so much that sometimes, he is surprised his chest hasn’t exploded with the sheer intensity of it.  
This year, Harry has turned sixty-three, and people around them, friends and colleagues and acquaintances, hell, even Harry occasionally, expect Eggsy to care about that. To mind that he is just thirty-seven and his boyfriend of eight years, is twenty-six years older than him, as if that hadn’t been aware of that when he first kissed the older man all this time ago, desperate and almost beaten to death.

To Eggsy, it doesn’t make more sense than if Harry started caring about the ugly burn scar he has on his lower back, the one on his thigh where some maniac pulled off the skin three years ago – he hasn’t fallen in love with Harry’s brown hair, which is all but grey nowadays, nor with his smooth skin, which is softer now, fits him a bit more loosely, creating wrinkles around Harry’s eyes, his mouth, his hands.  
Back when he fell for Harry, he fell for his dry wit, for his laugh and for the warmth of his eyes, for his recklessness and how much he cares about people in general, his friends in particular. And all that is still there, even if Harry occasionally forgets where he puts his glasses, or someone’s name, when his knees ache and the tremor in his left hand is getting worse and worse with every year.  
He’s still Harry, and that is all that Eggsy cares about.

“Darling?”, Harry asks again, makes it obvious that Eggsy has been too quiet for too long. He doesn’t sound worried, just a little confused, and Eggsy gives him a smile across the table.  
“Sorry, babe, just spaced out a lil’. It’s still early, after all.” Harry just hums non-committedly in response, but Eggsy can see right through him – even if the older man likes to pretend that he is absolutely fine with getting up at eight on a Sunday, Eggsy knows that it couldn’t be further from the truth. “But your glasses, I think you’ve left them upstairs, in the bathroom. You got shaving cream all over them, remember? Wanted to give ‘em a good wash later.”  
Harry’s brow furrows slightly, indicating that he is having trouble remembering, so Eggsy gives him the few seconds he needs to do so, until his eyes light up again. “Ah, yes. Of course.”

His voice sounds a little strained, and Eggsy knows just why – while he never had problems with Harry getting older, the other man has. It’s a problem that isn’t entirely new, or at least Merlin told him so one night, after one or three too many whiskeys, but one which got a lot worse once Eggsy appeared in Harry’s life.  
The other moves to get up, but Eggsy is faster, walks around the table to press a soft kiss to Harry’s lips, one of his hands coming up to stroke through the older man’s hair, which is still thick and soft, much to Merlin’s dismay and Harry’s pride.  
“I’ll just go get them, I wanted to get my slippers anyway”, Eggsy explains; it’s half a lie, and Harry probably knows it, but doesn’t comment.

The thing is that while the steep staircase is a pretty thing to look at, it doesn’t do Harry’s knees much good, something Eggsy knows but Harry would never admit. It’s the price you pay for falling and jumping and running around for half your life, that’s what the doctors say, and Eggsy thinks that, compared to a missing eye and the myriad of scars which riddle Harry’s skin, it’s a small one.  
Especially when Harry has him to take care of all carrying, all lifting, all fetching his glasses from the bedroom upstairs.

Leaving a second peck on Harry’s slightly frowning lips, Eggsy leaves the room and climbs the stairs, finds the glasses exactly where he knew they had to be. There is still a smudge of shaving cream on one of the lenses, so Eggsy holds them under the tap for a few moments, wipes the water off them carefully before putting them in the pocket of his robe.  
Almost, he forgets about his slippers, has to head back to get them. Maybe he is getting old too.

Harry seems to be waiting for him when he walks back into the kitchen, his eyes finding Eggsy’s the second he steps inside; they are warm and gentle and maybe a little bit sad. Expressive, almost revealing too much, and that is what is most important, because Eggsy knows how long it took for Harry to be able to show his feelings this openly, to be vulnerable with him around.

Eggsy gives him a smile and walks closer, Harry looking up at him once he is standing in front of the older man.  
“There ya go”, Eggsy says, takes the glasses and slides them onto Harry’s nose, taking the chance to let his fingers traveling over Harry’s cheeks, his jawline and his lips. He’s still the most handsome man Eggsy has ever met, sagging skin and grey hair and wrinkles or not.  
“All good again?”, he asks, and the older man smiles against Eggsy’s fingertips, a sweet, affectionate thing which makes Eggsy feel warm all over, loved and safe. Harry has always been good at this, ever since the first time they met, making him feel good, feel important and like he is worth something.

“Absolutely”, Harry answers and his words feel like a caress in itself, a kiss. He reaches out and catches Eggsy’s hand in his, gives it a squeeze before bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss to Eggsy’s palm, to his fingertips. “You’re too good to me, my heart.”  
The words make something in Eggsy’s chest constrict painfully; he hates it when Harry gets like this, all soft and grateful and self-depreciating, like he still can’t believe that Eggsy is here with him, wants to be here. That he still loves him, or has started loving him at all.

And so he curls his fingers around Harry’s, holding them tight, and gives Harry as much of a smile as he can manage right now. He’ll drag the other man upstairs, tie him to the four-poster bed and show Harry just how much he loves, wants, needs him, until Harry can’t even remember his own name, but for now, Eggsy settles for something different.  
“I’m definitely not”, he answers, and he means it with every fibre of his being. “I’m just as good to you as you deserve.”


End file.
